Military Precision
by sapienlover
Summary: Dynamics change in every family, and the Leverage team is no exception. More than a tad fluffy. Part 2 of the 'Redemption of Eliot Spencer' Series.
1. Chapter 1

Eliot Spencer had never had much to do with babies. Oh, he'd murmured a complimentary word or two over a couple of them in his time, ensconced as they were in their mother's arms, but that was about it.

Now children in general were a different kettle of fish. Eliot actually liked kids, although he'd never admit it. He was really quite good with them. Once they were able to talk and move around and do things, he got on fine with them. He spoke to them like they were adults … he listened, he told 'em stuff and was honest with them, and most of all he enjoyed teachin' them things. Skills like throwing darts, or martial arts or how to peel a potato without losing a finger, all wrapped up in Oklahoma home-town wisdom, patience and common sense. When children hung out with the fearsome Eliot Spencer, they learned a thing or two about life and how to believe in themselves while they were at it.

But babies? Small, pink slug-like critters that pooped, farted, cried and slept when they weren't eating. He had nothing against them, _per se_ , but they just weren't that _interesting_.

So when Nate and Sophie had announced one day that they were pregnant, Nate all 'startled-rabbit-in-headlights' and Sophie pleased but confused as though she'd been conned, Eliot didn't quite know what to think.

Hardison, bless his geeky heart, was delighted, his love of family shining in his toothy grin, and he wrapped his arms around Sophie, hugging her _so_ tight, and babbling on about how his Nana would be thrilled about her baby boy becomin' an uncle an' how he was goin' to jazz up the baby alarm when it was installed.

Parker, smiling weirdly and staring at Sophie's still-flat stomach, was a little more hesitant, but she kinda got it. If Nate and Sophie were happy, then she was happy. Although she did confuse everyone when she asked loudly of no-one in particular, "Who's _in_ there?"

Eliot was now sure there really _was_ somethin' wrong with her.

He was happy for Sophie and Nate. He really, _really_ was, and he slapped Nate good-naturedly on the back and folded Sophie into one of his gentle, all-consuming hugs which Sophie knew in her heart was to tell her that she was safe and looked after. _Always_.

But later that evening, after Eliot had cooked them all a celebratory dinner and there had been much laughing and teasing and banter, the hitter had grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out with a quick "Jus' going for a ride. See y'all tomorrow," and then skilfully rode out onto the highway on his motorcycle.

The roads were dry and there wasn't much traffic once he left the confines of the city, so once he hit the road to the pacific coast Eliot could relax, and let the thrum of the engine of his old Triumph Bonneville* sooth his mind.

By the time he reached Warrenton and pulled into a parking spot on the harbour, it was past midnight. He eased off the Triumph and stretched stiff muscles, and then put the big bike up on its kickstand.

There was a bench seat in front of him, right on the harbour wall, so he sat down, put his helmet beside him, and looked out to the twinkling lights of moored boats and the dark ocean beyond. The only sounds now were the soft lap of the sea and the occasional faint _ding_ of a bell on the masts of the local fishing boats and leisure craft. He liked the peacefulness here, and the harbour had become one of his favourite places for trying to figure out what was happening – or not – in his life.

But this new dynamic was quite a poser.

A baby. A real, live frikkin' _baby_. Before the year was out, a new person was coming into all of their lives, and he, for one, had no idea how to even _begin_ dealing with it.

Although Nate and Sophie were technically retired, it didn't seem that way. The two of them – when they weren't off gallivanting around the world – somehow found time to 'help' what was now Leverage International, and were still part of any job they happened to be interested in.

"Well, _that's_ gotta stop," Eliot said aloud. "Got a young 'un to take care of." He snorted in amusement.

He had to say that the idea of watching Nate and Sophie deal with a newborn tickled the hell out of him. Nate, of course, had experience, but he was older, and not as energetic as he used to be. And Sophie … no more shoe-shopping, designer clothes, no _nothin_ '.

Eliot pondered the situation.

Well, he guessed, he could probably help out a little. He was handy with a screwdriver an' could make stuff. _And_ , he realised, he could make sure Sophie ate properly. _Hmmm_. Didn't pregnant mommas have cravings? He had no idea if that was true or not. He'd have to do some research.

Hell, he was a big, tough sonofabitch and could beat the crap out of the world and its brother, so an itty-bitty infant would be a piece of cake. Cake. _Sophie shouldn't eat cake._ All that sugar. He made a mental note to look at everyone's cupboards and refrigerators, and make sure they were stocked appropriately. He would also make sure he grew the right vegetables and herbs in his little roof garden. He had a vague memory that ginger tea helped with morning sickness, and mint was a great help with biliousness. He liked herbal teas, and used them himself when he was sick or hurt, so that was a no-brainer.

Eliot suddenly realised that he had about seven months of planning ahead of him. He obviously had to make sure Nate and Sophie didn't have any problems and everything went smoothly, and also prepare for the birth itself. That would mean checking routes to the hospital, timings, planning ahead for emergencies.

Eliot scratched his head, a little bit overwhelmed.

 _Jeez_. It was like a friggin' military operation. Well, that was something Eliot knew about in spades. Plan? He was a goddamn _genius_ at strategies. _He could do this_.

He had a couple of moments of serious doubt when he thought about the birth itself. He really didn't want to think about that, because the one and only time he had been involved in a birth it had been … _disastrous_. But that had been a long time and half a world away, back when he was younger and deep in a nasty place in the African bush.

He shook that thought out of his mind, and told himself that this would be so, _so_ different. Sophie would be fine. Just _fine_.

Lifting his helmet, he made his decision. He was going to make sure that this pregnancy went off without a hitch, and that everybody pulled their weight. Parker liked to call their crazy little group a family, so that's what family did – pulled together and made it work.

He stood up and put on his helmet, turned to the Triumph and eased it down off its kickstand. Just before firing the old motorcycle up, he reminded himself to call in at a 24-hour supermarket that sold organic foods on the way home. His new plan was gonna go like friggin' clockwork, and if it didn't, it would probably be Hardison's fault and he would whup his geeky ass to hell and back, so help him.

Eliot grinned. Military precision, that's what was needed. He had this whole situation _absolutely_ under control. Yes indeed.

* * *

Sophie awoke to smells of cooking wafting up from their kitchen. She looked over Nate's snoring body to glare at the alarm clock. Bloody hell – _seven in the morning!_ Practically the middle of the night! Why the hell Eliot had let himself into their home at this time of the morning, she had no idea, but the smell of the cooking food made her stomach lurch.

 _Uh-oh._

The retching coming from their bathroom finally woke Nate, who sat up bleary-eyed. Whatever Eliot was cooking smelled _great_.

"You okay, Sophie?" He asked sleepily. The retching sounded horrendous.

"What the _hell_ do _you think?_ " came Sophie's irate voice. " _Oh god_ …" The retching continued.

Nate levered himself out of bed, and once Sophie had finished – more or less – with her vomiting, they both wrapped themselves in their dressing gowns and headed down to their kitchen, now under the control of an Eliot-on-a-mission.

He had a towel over one shoulder and was busy making a revolting-looking smoothie with some spinach and a couple of kiwi fruit. He was wearing his spectacles, and he fixed Sophie with a firm look over the top of the rims and handed her a cup of steaming tea.

"Ginger," he said solemnly. "Helps with the barfing."

Sophie looked at Nate, who shrugged. They parked themselves on stools and Sophie sipped the tea tentatively. It was surprisingly good, so she settled down to finish it.

The smoothie came next. That wasn't such a hit, but Nate did enjoy the scrambled eggs on sesame seed bagels, while Sophie nibbled on wholemeal toast.

Eliot munched on a bagel as he cleaned up the kitchen surface, and glanced at Sophie.

"Gotta eat right, Soph. Ain't good for ya if you eat wrong. Nate, you gotta make sure Sophie eats properly."

Nate raised an eyebrow at their hitter, who was now frowning. It was obvious he was taking this all very seriously.

"Oookayyy …" he said benignly. "I'll make sure of that, Eliot."

"I've put some stuff in the refrigerator for you, Soph – lots of snacks you c'n eat. Little meals but often." He waggled his finger at the kitchen. "I won't be here every day to cook for ya, y'know, I gotta work." He finished his bagel and picked up his leather jacket. "Right. Gotta head off, make sure Hardison isn't screwin' up the job. If you need anythin', just give me a yell – I'll have my earbud in all day today."

And with that, he was out of the door and gone, the sound of his motorcycle growling into the distance.

"What the hell was all that about?" Nate said, mystified.

Sophie shook her head.

"I have no idea." She smiled. "But I think we're going to have another seven months of it, whatever it is. God help us." She added.

Nate dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

To be continued ...

* * *

 **Author's note:**

*I've given Eliot a Triumph Bonneville 750cc. Although he would probably prefer an American bike, the Triumph is a tough, hard-working beast of a bike and like a Colt revolver, you can break bits and it still works. I though Eliot would appreciate its no-nonsense persona, and he would enjoy having it as part of his collection.

This story is a little bit of a prequel to 'A Walk on the Wild Side,' but not all of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Nobody really noticed much at first.

For a couple of months after Eliot's initial foray into Nate and Sophie's life – and their kitchen – they would sometimes wake up to a spontaneous breakfast and a series of Eliot-type twenty questions. Sophie, somewhat charmed, thought of it more as the hitter's version of The Actor's Studio, with Eliot's brusque queries just as piercing as James Lipton's, but with a hint of a growl.

"Mornin', Soph. How are ya?"

"Much the same, Eliot, thanks." Sophie would sit down and put her head on a hand with a sigh.

"Still pukin'?" Eliot was whisking his own pancake recipe, rich with cinnamon and much deliciousness.

"'Fraid so. Now I'm getting it through the day. It's _so_ annoying."

"Ginger tea." A mug of tea would appear as if by magic.

"Ohhh, thanks, Eliot. This stuff is a life-saver," and she would warm her hands and sip gratefully. "Nate never makes it for me – I have to make my own," Sophie added a little testily.

This resulted in Eliot brooding and scowling and Nate feeling a bit like an insect on a pin, even though Sophie's declaration was just a little … exaggerated. He just stayed silent, took one for the team and hoped Eliot had blueberries to go with those pancakes. He even tolerated the organic decaf coffee Eliot had bought, replacing Nate's own treasured stash of good coffee which he loved in the mornings.

Eliot turned his scowly eyes back to Sophie, where they softened instantly.

"How's Bump doin'?"

Sophie would smile graciously at this grouchy soft touch of a man, and pat her stomach and the barely perceptible bump now showing if you looked hard enough. Which Eliot never, _ever_ did, because, man, you just didn't _do_ things like that.

"Bump, as far as I can tell, is doing very well, thanks."

Eliot would then give that new, soft little smile he had suddenly created just for Bump, a tiny, half-hitch of one side of his mouth that made laughter lines suddenly appear at the corner of his eyes, something Sophie had never noticed before.

And then as suddenly as he had arrived, he would head once more out into the hard, dangerous world in which he alone of all of them existed, a long, twisted road of shadows and unrelenting vigilance, and upon which he walked, silent and as deadly as an outcast wolf.

* * *

It was Eliot who had begun the 'Bump' thing. It had started with Sophie and Nate showing everyone their first baby scan, which Hardison adored, Parker didn't understand no matter _how hard_ Nate tried to explain it to her, and at which Eliot had just stared, eyes a little leery. He felt as though he was intruding in something very, _very_ private and loving and _not for him_.

"Looks like a peanut," he had said, and then, surprisingly, had blushed in a very Spencer-ish way, with just the tip of his ears – which the team could see for a change, with his hair tied back – turning a soft, shell-pink. Sophie was enchanted.

"Well, it won't in a few weeks," she said, smiling. "Arms … legs … head … it'll look more like a baby and I'll have a bit of a bump."

Eliot, desperately uncomfortable and feeling 'waaaay out of his depth, seized on the word like a lifeline. 'Bump' could be used instead of all of those words that were involved with having offspring … words like 'pregnant' and 'gestation' and 'fetus' and, for goodness sake, 'baby'. Words that weren't for Eliot to use out loud as it wasn't his place to do so.

So, 'bump' became 'Bump', and suddenly became real for everyone. They had a name, albeit a generic one, for the newest member of the team.

Eliot breathed a sigh of relief that he had a verbal get-out for all of the 'havin' a baby' stuff, and was secretly just a little bit smug that the team had adopted the name as their own.

So Bump became real and part of their lives, slowly but surely, and Eliot's Plan gradually came into being.

He already had Sophie's diet sorted out up to a point. She did have a craving for avocados, but that he could deal with. The whole team now drank decaf, whether they liked it or not, and Hardison had been informed that at some point he would have to take Lucille to get fitted for a baby seat. But first the hacker had to do a considerable amount of research to find the best available, and oh, while he was at it, Hardison had better clear that crappy sugary orange _crappy_ soda out of Lucille and every refrigerator they used in every house they worked in, as Sophie found the smell nauseating. Eliot clearly didn't have a problem with delegating.

But other than the occasional quiet unease, Eliot felt he was coping admirably. Nobody mentioned that the hitter was being a little OCD, but then it was normal for him, and he managed to work The Plan alongside any job they did.

Parker, on the other hand, was utterly mystified by the whole business of Bump. She had taken to talking to Bump slowly, loudly and with great gusto, which was okay for a minute or two, but given the chance, Parker could go on for _hours_.

Eliot, finalising the brewpub menu for the following week, began to simmer at the nonsense even as Sophie tried to ignore the prattle. Parker wouldn't let her get a word in edgeways.

"Dammit, Parker!" Eliot finally grouched, brows drawn down, "Bump can't hear ya just yet! Can't hear anythin' for maybe another couple of months – " Eliot froze. He glanced at the faces of his team, all now looking at him with curiosity. " … which … I probably read someplace …"

He blinked rapidly for a moment or two, and then promptly about-turned and disappeared into the brewpub kitchen.

Hardison, sitting with Nate at a bar table researching a prospective client, thought for a moment as he gazed at the empty space that had, until seconds ago, contained an Eliot.

"Nate?"

"Yeah?" Nate looked a little bemused.

"Did … did Eliot just say somethin' about baby development? Like … he _knew_ something about it?"

Nate shrugged.

"Maybe he grew up in a big family … maybe he's an older brother? Who knows? Maybe he _did_ read it someplace."

Hardison's eyes widened.

"Jeez … you mean there might be _more_ Eliots out there?" he shuddered. It didn't bear thinking about.

Sophie, reading a magazine and sipping on the now-essential ginger tea, just smiled, quietly and knowingly.

"Leave him alone, boys. He's only dealing with something he's not sure how to handle just yet. Give him time." And disappearing behind her magazine, Sophie made it known she was not going to say any more on the matter.

"Huh," Parker sulked. "I only wanted to tell Bump about Bunny."

Sophie's hand reached over and patted Parker's arm.

"Later, dear" the grifter murmured. "Much, _much_ later."

And with Eliot's mysterious pronouncement niggling at three out of the four remaining members of the team, everyone went back to being their usual dysfunctional selves.

* * *

It was a couple of months later that the team discovered Bump liked music.

It was after a job well done, with much mayhem avoided, no-one got hurt – always a plus from Eliot's point of view - and the client went home happy, relieved and with a nice cheque tucked into her purse.

A good meal followed, as always, and it was especially memorable because Eliot, in a fit of generosity, brought out his guitar and sang a song or two. Parker loved the fact that Eliot could sing, and it always made her sit curled up on the sofa, almost purring with pleasure.

Nate and Sophie were on the other end of the sofa, Sophie leaning back on Nate's chest and the man holding her loosely in his arms as though she was the most precious thing in his world … which Sophie was.

Hardison slumped sideways in a huge leather armchair, half asleep, the good food and company making him dozy and comfy, as always when he was with the family he loved.

Eliot sat on the floor, back against the sofa between Parker and Sophie, and he was in a world of his own. This was a rare moment of seeing the predator at rest, and he quietly picked out a tune and sang, soft and haunting and with such longing, Nate thought, that he wondered, not for the first time, what life had done to Eliot Spencer.

 _He said other than a dreamer … I ain't nothin' but a drifter, You could do a lot better …_

"Oh!" Sophie said with surprise. She rested her hand on her now swollen stomach.

Eliot stopped singing and sat up, slightly alarmed.

"Soph? You okay?"

She had recently been diagnosed with slightly raised blood pressure, which was being monitored, but it had triggered Eliot's alarm bells, and he had added the extra concern to The Plan.

"Bump likes music," she said, smiling.

Parker leaned down and poked Eliot in the shoulder.

"Sing more!"

"How'd you know Bump likes music?" Eliot muttered, still a little worried. "Maybe not. Maybe hates it," he said as he laid his old, precious guitar down beside him and twisted around to look at Sophie.

Nate grinned.

"Because Bump's dancing," he said. "If Bump doesn't like something –"

"Dear god, don't I know about it," Sophie interjected. "Bouncing around like Parker on a sugar high –"

"I don't bounce!" Parker said, a little insulted. "I _dance too_."

"Well," Sophie continued, ignoring their pouty thief, "that's what Bump does. Dance. Here … " she reached out and caught Eliot's hand and lifting it, gently laid it against the side of her belly, the scarred knuckles pressed against … something soft and moving and gentle …

Eliot's eyes opened wide.

His first instinct was to pull away, knowing Bump wasn't his to touch or … or …

But the Bump _danced_. A soft pushing, and as his nervous gaze fell to where his hand lay, tight in Sophie's grasp, he watched as a line of … _something_ … slowly revolved in front of him, clear as day, visible even through Sophie's silk top.

At that moment music was added to The Plan. He had read, in the little stash of books he had acquired secretly over the past few months, that children could hear music in the womb, and Mozart was popular. _Well, to hell with that_ , he thought. If Bump liked Americana and country rock, and it made Bump and Sophie happy, then that's what Bump and Sophie would get.

"Would you look at that," he breathed. "Sonofa … gun," he added, self-consciously. If Bump could hear music, then Bump could hear cussin', and if his Momma had heard him cuss in front of a child he would have had his butt whupped for forgettin' his manners. So Eliot _adjusted._

And from then on, if a team meal was on the cards or Sophie was tired or fractious during a job and Bump was being a pain, if he could, Eliot sang.

* * *

And then the world went to hell in a handbasket.

A trip into the mountains* with Hardison and Parker almost cost Eliot – and Hardison – their lives, and Eliot's recovery from his severe injuries was slow. Sophie, seven months pregnant, did what she could to help him come to terms with a newly-discovered danger to their hitter's existence – an old wound, a grenade fragment lodged in his back, was threatening Eliot's job - as _he_ saw it - of protecting his team, and if the thing moved, it could threaten his life.

And, as Eliot rested and healed and reluctantly let his family take care of _him_ , for a change, he pondered The Plan.

The dynamic had changed. This damn' fragment might slow him down, or worse still, end up making him a useless cripple.

But, he decided, he had to be practical. He could still make sure everything went smoothly, at least until Bump arrived, and he could focus on that. It would give him something to do as he healed and take his mind off the grueling physiotherapy Parker was helping him with, and she was a goldarn _monster_ when it came to doing his exercises, goshdarn it, no matter how much he growled and threatened.

So he hauled Hardison off his computers and set to sorting out logistics for routes from wherever they happened to be to the hospital.

Lucille, now fitted with a baby seat ('It grows with your child!' was a major selling point), and Sophie's hospital necessities suitcase, now snugly locked in an overhead bin, was duly put through her paces. Hardison logged routes, and they argued about times of day. Rush hour had to be taken into account. Hardison got really, _really_ tired of sitting in traffic with Eliot beside him, timing everything and being the worst backseat driver in history. And then they would do the same thing at three in the morning.

Once Lucille passed muster, Eliot went through every vehicle the team had, and did exactly the same thing. He even considered his motorcycles, but he realized that he couldn't ride one in his present condition, and, to be fair, he didn't think Sophie in labour would be keen on sitting astride a bike.

That done, he went over the rest of The Plan.

The nursery was finished (Week 20 of Bump), painted, set up and alarmed in every way possible. Hardison had tagged the monitor onto their earbuds, and had also set up a really neat CCTV system he could access at HQ and in Lucille.

Parker had surprised everyone with her artistic endeavors, and the nursery had some rather weird bunnies dancing around the walls in a sprawling mural. Odd, Nate had thought, but done with love. Sophie adored them.

Sophie, attempting knitting, was failing miserably, and the task intended to help her relax was doing the opposite. Eliot showed her how plain and perl was quite simple, and then taught her how to turn a heel in a sock. Sophie had been happy with the result and sat back, satisfied, and Eliot ticked that one off his list.

And so life went on, and Bump grew, and Eliot fretted, and the rest of the team got on with life.

Until life, in its own, nasty, contrary way, decided to throw the proverbial wrench in the works, and screwed up Eliot's Plan big-time.

And all it took was an ordinary drive in Lucille as she was the most comfortable vehicle for Sophie to sit in, a torrential rainstorm, a major accident and a ten-mile traffic jam. Life really could be a shi … _pain_ … Eliot decided. And then all hell broke loose.

To be continued …

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

*See the first story in the series, 'A Walk on the Wild Side'.

Eliot's song is 'Let me Go', from Christian Kane's terrific album 'Welcome to the House'.


	3. Chapter 3

Sophie was bored. _Really_ bored. So bored that boring people would have found her entire existence boring. So, she decided, someone would have to take her bloated, waddling, miserable body and heave it into a vehicle and take her somewhere – _anywhere_ – just for a change of scene.

So to this end, she tackled her team and informed them politely but firmly, that they would be taking her out on the following Sunday for a drive, just to get her heavily-pregnant carcass out into the fresh air. She wanted company, she wanted feeding, and she wanted entertainment, just as long as it didn't include her actually having to _do_ anything.

Her three so-called friends and the husband who had got her into this mess in the first place looked at one another.

Every single one of them had plans for Sunday. Parker was heading off up a skyscraper somewhere, Hardison had an on-line 24-hour session of World of Warcraft set up with his strange little friends, none of whom he had ever actually met, and Nate and Eliot were watching football. Which, for Sophie, meant being completely ignored. Sophie Devereaux Ford didn't take kindly to being ignored.

She had just over two weeks to go to her due date, and she wanted to make the most of what little time she had left before her life ended and became someone else's. Not that she objected to Bump, but she did miss her previous life more than a little bit.

So she didn't give a goddamn that Parker wouldn't get to fling herself off some poxy skyscraper, that Hardison would have to disappoint his weird troll-loving pals, and she especially didn't care that Nate and Eliot, both sports fiends, would miss a game that _wasn't even proper bloody football_.

She could tell from the looks of despair they gave one another that she had won. Well _, that_ was a given. She was pregnant, and pregnant women got what they wanted because Sophie, already an actress – good or otherwise – could turn on the tears at the drop of a hat, and teary pregnant women could blame hormones and get away with it. And Sophie, always the grifter, was happy to finagle her own way whenever she could.

Eliot, mourning the loss of his Sunday game, reluctantly mentioned there was a farmer's market in Astoria the following Sunday, the last market before they halted for the winter. There were stalls of locally produced food, lots of nice places to eat, and there was always live music.

"It's a four-hour round trip though, Soph. Will you an' Bump be okay?" he asked, desperately hoping she would say that it would be too much for her.

"Of course we'll be okay, Eliot!" Sophie scoffed, "what do you think I am? Some sort of wilting lily? _I want a day out, people!"_

Eliot's heart sank. Nate rested a hand on his good shoulder in sympathy, careful not to hurt the man. Eliot was still somewhat sore and stiff, even long weeks after being injured, and the hole in his left shoulder had been slow to heal.

"I'll get Hardison to record the game," Nate whispered. "Then all we have to do is avoid hearing the score."

"You really think that's gonna work, Nate? Well, _do ya?_ " Eliot hissed, glaring at Parker who was sitting glumly staring into space. She was already missing her skyscraper. "Remember the _last_ time we tried that?"

Nate winced.

Unfortunately, Parker hadn't understood why it was so important not to find out the score before Nate and Eliot could see the game. _Surely_ , she thought, it was better just to find out without having to sit for hours getting all shouty and critical and argumentative.

Eliot had spent a _very_ frustrating and pointless thirty minutes trying to explain to Parker why it was _fun_ to get all shouty and critical and argumentative while watching the game. But looking at the genuinely confused expression on her elfin face, Eliot had realised that she really, _really_ didn't get it, and letting out a growl of pure helpless rage, he had stalked outside to the alley behind the brewpub and spent an equally fruitless ten minutes hurling abuse at a dumpster.

Eliot saw the angst on Nate's face.

"Yeah, man. Good luck with that one," he added dryly.

So Sophie was not to be denied. A day out she demanded, and a day out was what she was going to get. They were _screwed_.

* * *

The Grand Day Out turned out to be not so bad after all.

They all decided on an early morning start, and Sophie was soon settled into her favourite seat in Lucille, a large, leather-upholstered fixed chair with a footrest where she could sit in comfort and peer out of the window, keep an eye on everyone and generally be the centre of attention.

As Hardison skilfully drove Lucille along the highway, following the beauty of the landscape along the Columbia River, Sophie sighed happily. She watched the scenery pass by through the window and absorbed the presence of Nate, sprawled beside her on the sofa bed, working on a crossword. Behind her she heard the constant banter of the three younger members of the team … Hardison's constant prattle, Parker's snorky laugh and Eliot's gruff, warm voice teasing the crap out of both of them, his raspy chuckle making Sophie smile.

Even Bump was dozing, lying quiet and snug, and in a while, Sophie drifted into a light sleep, secure and safe with her people around her.

Astoria turned out to be exactly what Sophie needed. The day was cold and dank with the scent of rain in the air, but it didn't dampen their growing enthusiasm. The historic, elegant buildings, the excellent restaurant where they all enjoyed a delicious meal – and where the owner arrived to welcome Eliot and to make sure they had the best of everything – and after eating, Nate found somewhere comfortable for them both to sit and people-watch while Eliot haggled for bargains in the food market. He spent the afternoon happily trying samples and discussing the mysterious benefits of different varieties of tomato. Parker and Hardison just wandered through the market, pushing each other around like teenagers and giggling.

They had a _blast_.

The first spots of rain began to fall when they all assembled at Lucille, and as Sophie lowered herself gingerly into her chair, she winced.

"Ohhh, my back," she complained.

Eliot frowned, his Plan instantly coming to the forefront of his mind. He quickly sifted through possibilities and indications of labour.

"You okay, Soph? No twinges?"

Sophie shook her head.

"No, nothing like that. Just a drag in my back." She smiled apologetically. "I think maybe you were right, Eliot. I just overdid it."

Within minutes Eliot had a couple of heat pads warmed in their big microwave – always handy on stakeouts – and Sophie sighed with relief as Nate anxiously placed them at the small of her back. She patted his arm in thanks, and everyone relaxed.

"Just take it easy, Sophie, promise me," Nate whispered.

She smiled at him, and it felt as though he'd been handed a diamond.

"I will," she said. " _We_ will." She patted Bump.

"Okay, people, you all ready to go home? Rain's getting' nasty an' I want to get home before dark. Lucille's a great gal, but she don't like too much heavy rain on the asphalt," Hardison said, heading for the driver's seat. "Sophie? You alright to travel?"

Sophie waved her hand dismissively.

"Go, Hardison! I'm fine!"

Hardison gave a toothy grin. If they got back to Portland in a couple of hours, he might just manage the second half of his orc-fest.

Within minutes, they were easing through building traffic, heading into lowering, heavy clouds and increasing rainfall, the roads already glistening with water.

Eliot slumped down in one of the other chairs and kept a weather eye out for Sophie, while Nate settled down beside his wife. The hitter was a little wary, cautious, but in all honesty, he realised it was probably his dratted 'Spidey-sense' kicking in. Sophie was close to her delivery date, and Eliot's edginess was getting worse by the day. He had no idea how Nate was keeping it together – it was _his_ wife and child, after all. Eliot was an outsider … not even proper family, really, no matter that it _felt_ like family.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he started when he felt a touch on his arm, and he looked up.

Parker stood there, a couple of heat pads in her hands. She narrowed her eyes in a frown.

"Here." She waved the heat pads at him. "Shoulder. You look sore." And before Eliot could react, she eased one behind his bad shoulder where the exit wound was, and lodged the soft pad between Eliot and the seat. She shoved the other pad into his good hand and grabbing his wrist, pushed the hand and pad upward until it rested on his shoulder just below the collar bone, where the ugly, partly-healed scar of the entry wound lay. Patting Eliot's hand, she smiled. "Better?"

Eliot couldn't stop the amusement from creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, darlin'. Thanks. Helps a lot." He wasn't lying – the heat permeated his shoulder, warming and soothing the ache there. It was bliss.

After that, everyone settled down for an hour, and the journey became one of those nice, easy moments in time when the aftermath of a pleasurable, restful day turned into one of cosy relaxation, murmured conversations and the occasional nap.

The heat of the pads on his shoulder and the pleasant weariness of a day well-spent lulled Eliot into a light doze, and his stocky frame was rocking gently to the movement of Lucille as she trundled along the highway, the gentle purr of her big engine thrumming through his mind. He was on the point of dropping into a deeper sleep when Sophie's voice made him blink into consciousness in an instant.

"Eliot?"

Eliot, wide awake in less than a second, heard the controlled fear in her voice. He winced as the sudden movement made his shoulder twinge, but he slipped off the seat and was beside Sophie in a moment, sliding down onto his knees, the heat pads tumbling unheeded to the floor.

Sophie was rigid in her seat, brown eyes huge in her face, and her hands cupped her stomach.

Eliot glanced over to Nate. The man was sound asleep.

"Don't wake him. Not yet," Sophie whispered.

Eliot took in Sophie's stance and tension, and he could see her hands clutch gently at her belly. His mind went into high gear. He brought up in rapid order every plan, every route and every contingency he had in place, and dismissed them equally quickly because _not one_ of the goddamn things fitted the present situation. Okay – he'd think on his feet. _Jeez_.

He forced a gentle smile, and cupped Sophie's face in his hand.

"Baby's comin', huh?" he said as softly as he could.

Sophie gulped.

"I … I think so. I thought it was just a false contraction or two – I've had them before-"

"Braxton Hicks," Eliot added, nodding. "These are different?"

Sophie, nodded back, surprised. She had always suspected Eliot knew far more than he let on.

"I thought it was just my back complaining, but the feeling just got worse and worse and then I felt a contraction. It was quite strong, I have to say. Then I had another one."

Eliot wiped a hand over his face and began working out timings. He realised his hand was shaking.

" _Okay_ …" he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Okay, Soph – any idea how far apart?"

Sophie thought for a moment.

"I wasn't timing it … but I think about 15 minutes. And it was bloody painful!" she added, surprised.

Eliot grinned, despite himself.

"Well, _yeah_ ," he quipped. "It's called havin' a baby, sweetheart!" His face softened. "You're gonna be a momma, Sophie-girl. An' it's gonna be _just fine_. You got nothin' to worry about – we'll head for the nearest hospital an' then you can meet Bump, alright?"

Sophie hesitated, and then smiled.

"Sorry," she said, her voice a little shaky.

Eliot frowned.

"What for?"

"Just … I shouldn't have decided on this blasted day out, and we'd be – OW!"

And she curled into herself, her hand reaching out for Eliot's but she grasped his arm instead, the contraction surging through her. Eliot bared his teeth against the pain in his forearm. _Dammit_ but Sophie had one helluva grip on her, and her elegant nails frikkin' _hurt!_

But the two of them rode it out, and as the contraction eased, Eliot checked his watch. Now he could time the interval when the next contraction hit. He flexed his arm as Sophie loosened her grip and knew he would have quite a bruise the next day.

He decided it was time to wake Nate.

Reaching over, he shook the sleeping man's shoulder. Nate woke with a start, Sophie's name on his lips. One look at the expression on Eliot's face told him everything he needed to know.

Sitting up, he rubbed sleep from his eyes with one hand and reached out to Sophie with his other.

" _Now?_ " he asked, slightly bewildered. "You … you're having the baby _right now?_ "

Sophie's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, Nate, right- _bloody_ -now, and I'm having bloody _contractions_ and we're probably _nowhere near_ a sodding _hospital_ , so wake up, get a grip and _help me out here!_ "

Eliot winced internally at the language, but he had to admire Sophie's stroppy streak. She sure was one classy lady.

Nate was wide awake now and up to speed. He crouched down beside Sophie and held her hand, rubbing his thumb gently on her knuckles, letting her know he was on board with everything. Nate cocked an eyebrow at Eliot.

"How far apart are the contractions?"

Eliot was immensely relieved that Nate appeared to know and understand the whole process. He supposed his previous experience and all of those classes to which Sophie had dragged him gave him an inkling of what was happening.

Eliot checked his watch again.

"Soph thinks about fifteen minutes – we got another ten or so to go, then we'll know for certain."

"Okay … you go tell Hardison we need to get to a hospital and find out how long it'll take us to get there. What's the weather like out there?"

Eliot peered out of the tinted one-way window at the darkening day. He saw a distant flash of lightning, and then heard the rumble, a mere two seconds later. The thunderstorm was heading this way.

"Heavy rain, gettin' worse. Won't be long until the thunderstorm'll be on us. It's pretty bad."

"Nothing we can do about it now," Nate said. "Just get Sophie to hospital." He turned to his wife. "Anything you need, Sophie? Tea? Anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?"

Sophie had relaxed a little, now that Nate was at her side, and she gave him a weak smile.

"Heat pads. I _love_ those heat pads."

Nate went to move, but Eliot beat him to it. He found the two Parker had given him, and Nate passed over the two Sophie had been using. Eliot was on his feet in a moment and shoved the pads in the microwave before peering through the little doorway leading to the front seats.

"What's goin' on back there …" Hardison began, and Eliot could see the hacker's worried dark eyes looking at him in the big rear-view mirror.

"Sophie's in labour," he said without preamble, "we need to find the nearest hospital."

Parker's face was a picture.

"Bump's finally coming?" she asked, barely able to conceal her excitement. She started to get out of the passenger seat, but Eliot gently pushed her back.

"Stay put. Nate's got it, an' Soph doesn't need us all fussin' around her –"

" _Yes I bloody do!"_ Sophie's voice rang out, a slight edge of hysteria in her voice. "Parker! Get over here and fetch me those damn heat pads!"

Parker grinned, delighted, and was out of the seat and pushing past Eliot in seconds.

Eliot, confused but resigned to the fact that he knew nothing about the mental machinations of women in labour, took Parker's place beside Hardison, who looked as though he'd been slapped in the face with a dead fish.

"Labour? Sophie's _in labour?_ In _Lucille?_ What … but she's not ready yet … she ain't supposed to be havin' Bump for another two weeks! _An' we're in Lucille!_ "

Eliot, on the point of punching someone – preferably Hardison – pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and prayed for strength. He took a deep, deep breath, and then tried to hold on to what remained of his sanity.

"Yes, Hardison – we're in Lucille. And we need to find the nearest hospital, so _think_ , will ya?"

Hardison, keeping his eye on the wet road ahead of him and the traffic slowing and building up as the storm began to really hit, gestured one-handed at Eliot.

"I'm drivin', El, an' there ain't no place nearby I can pull in so's we can change over so I can go find one, so get out your _damn' cell_ an' look for one yourself! I know tech is a bit of a challenge to that punched-out brain of yours, but I'm sure you can do it if you try hard enough, huh!" He paused for breath. "How's Sophie feelin'?"

Eliot, too jumpy to rant at the hitter, hauled out his cell phone and tried to punch up Google, but there didn't seem to be any service, probably due to the storm. God, he _hated_ technology.

" _I'm in frigging labour!"_ Sophie yelled, anger overwhelming her fear. "How do you _think_ I bleeding feel?"

"Any word on a hospital?" Nate said, his voice edgy.

"Workin' on it!" Eliot called out, but he was interrupted by a soft shriek from Sophie.

" _SOPHIE'S LEAKING!_ " Parker sang, excitement turning to confusion. "Ugh … carpet's wet."

Hardison groaned.

"Sophie's waters broke!" Nate yelled, his voice rife with controlled panic.

Then Eliot heard a grunt from Nate and a pained cry from Sophie.

" _SOPHIE'S CONTRACTING!"_ Parker yelled.

"Contrac _tion_ ," Eliot said under his breath, and looked at his watch. _Damn_. Nine minutes. He looked at Hardison, who was trying to check on Eliot and drive at the same time.

"Hardison … we gotta look for somewhere to stop."

"What? Why?"

"Because we ain't got a cat in hell's chance of gettin' to a hospital in time. This baby's comin' _now_ , Hardison. Soph isn't hangin' around – she's gettin' on with havin' this baby in record time, an' we gotta stop an' deal with it, okay?"

Hardison's face went from panic to grim determination in a couple of seconds. He nodded.

"Okay – I'll see if I can find a rest stop or a side road. You gotta call 911, man, see if we can get an ambulance."

Eliot shook his head.

"No service. We're on our own. _Again_." He added.

"Interference. Probably means I ain't gonna get anything on Lucille's tech, either. Dammit."

Hardison peered through the rain-swept windshield as a crack of thunder and an enormous flash of lightning illuminated the road ahead.

"What the –" The hacker saw a long, long line of traffic taking up both lanes, tail lights gleaming red through the murk. His side mirrors confirmed that there was more traffic piling up in a line behind them. "Damn! Must be somethin' up ahead, maybe an accident or somethin'."

He slowed Lucille, and more vehicles crowded in from the side and rear, everything slowing to a crawl.

Eliot watched as the tail-lights stretched into the distance, and he heard Sophie whimper. He stared at his useless cell phone, and then watched Hardison frantically look around to see if there was any way out of this jam they found themselves in.

Finally running his fingers through his hair, Eliot slammed a fist on the dashboard in frustration.

They were well and truly _stuck_.

To be continued …


	4. Chapter 4

I've tried to keep this as non-icky as possible, and in case anyone is wondering, the word Eliot struggles with is 'cervix.'

* * *

Eliot settled himself into the passenger seat and peered desperately through the windscreen, looking for anything that might remotely resemble a place where Hardison could park Lucille. There was nothing. _Nothing_. And the traffic was becoming even more nose-to-tail, so even if they did find somewhere, it would be difficult to ease through the tail-back – _wait_ …

The hitter squinted through the rain-smeared glass.

"Can you speed the wipers up a bit, Hardison? Clear the screen a little better?"

Hardison, puzzled, nodded and increased the speed.

"What's up? What can you see?"

Eliot pointed at a distant white smear at the side of the road.

"There! Over there!"

Hardison peered hard while still trying to keep an eye on traffic. Lucille was a big van, and he had no intentions of her even getting a whiff of a dent.

"That a sign or somethin'?"

"Yeah … yeah, it is," Eliot said, hope rising in his heart. "We gotta get over there. Any way we can wangle our way through this traffic?"

Hardison tried to inch his way in front of a truck, his turn signal blinking, but the driver crawled forward to prevent it.

"Asshole," Hardison muttered under his breath. "Don't think we're gonna make it, even if I pushed my way into traffic. All we'd get is a whole lotta dents an' hassle, an' with Soph on board I don't wanna chance an accident," he added.

Eliot saw Hardison's point. He ran the scenario through his mind, and came up with the only solution he could think of. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and eased through the little doorway.

Parker and Nate were busy trying to get Sophie more comfortable, her suitcase now unshipped from the overhead bin and being sorted through by Nate for something loose, clean and dry for her to wear. Sophie leaned forward for a moment, another contraction hitting her, and Nate held out his hand for her to grip. Parker continued cleaning up the damp patch on Lucille's carpet, grimacing with distaste.

Nate looked at his watch as Sophie whined softly through the pain.

"Seven minutes," he said, his voice strained and desperate. "Hospital?"

Eliot shook his head.

"Not an option. We gotta park up, Nate, find a safe place to stop." He crouched down beside Sophie. "Hey, sweetheart, how's it goin'? Just keep breathin' just like they told you at the classes."

Sophie glared at him for a moment, her face red with effort and pain, and then she began slowing her breathing, each breath becoming more controlled, and her face relaxed into it.

Nate began breathing in time with Sophie, murmuring words of encouragement, and slowly the contraction eased, Sophie slumping sideways against Nate, who rubbed her back and shifted the heat pads back into place.

Eliot smiled at his friends.

"That's great, guys … you're doin' just fine. Soph, listen … you're gonna have this baby pretty soon. It's gonna have to be here in Lucille, 'cause we're stuck in traffic an' we can't get to a hospital in time because you're doin' this so fast, but don't you worry – it'll be fine. We got you an' Bump. Nothin's gonna happen to either of you, I promise."

Sophie, her hair damp against her brow, looked at the hitter doubtfully.

"Yeah?"

Eliot nodded, far more confidently than he felt.

"Yeah. You got Nate, an' you got us. We're family. Okay?"

Sophie smiled at him through the pain and weariness.

"Whatever you need to do, Eliot. _I_ trust you. _Nate_ trusts you."

"Good girl," Eliot smiled. "So I think I got someplace for us to hole up, but I gotta go outside to do it. Hardison and me, we'll get you there, so do you think you guys can hold on just a little bit? Parker will watch out for ya, and she'll come get me if you need me, alright?

Nate dropped a hand on Eliot's arm, his blue eyes warm despite his fears for his wife and child.

"Go. We'll be fine." He didn't mention the whole thing about who the hell was actually going to help deliver this baby, but Nate knew that they would figure that out when it happened. Right now, Sophie had to be still and settled, with her family around her to help, so Eliot had to go and do his thing.

Eliot turned to Parker.

"When we stop, you heat some water in the microwave, okay? An' dig out the first aid kit. Then you help Nate put the sofa seat cushion on the floor an' find all the towels and sheets we got. Oh, and pillows. If you need me, stick your head outta the back and yell as loud as you can, y'hear me?"

Seeing Parker nod with excitement, he knew he could leave Nate and Sophie in her somewhat overbearing care for a little while. He headed to a cupboard and dug out a flashlight, and then wriggled into his jacket and slipped on his beanie.

Opening one of Lucille's big rear doors, Eliot stepped down onto the road into torrential rain and a fast-encroaching night, as lightning ripped through the heavens and the thunder sounded as though the ending of the world was upon them.

* * *

"What the hell is he doin'?" Hardison said to himself, peering through the windscreen, watching Eliot jog between the almost-stationary mass of vehicles, flashlight bobbing and weaving in the rain as he headed towards the white sign in the distance.

"Hardison?" Parker appeared beside him. "Are we gonna stop soon? I think Bump's in a hurry."

The hacker turned to Parker and shook his head.

"Sure hope so, babe. I have no idea what Eliot has in mind, but he seems to have some sort of plan worked out in that antsy, Oscar-the-Grouch mind of his. He's over there, doin' god-knows-what."

Parker leaned over and peered into the distance. Her sharp eyes could see the flashlight beam in the dark, scoping something out, and then the light turned back towards them.

"He's coming back! Goody!"

"Why 'goody'? Is Sophie okay? I mean, the baby … is it comin' yet?" Hardison's eyes grew round with worry.

Parker snorked, smiling.

"No, silly! Not yet. I just want to meet whoever's _in there_."

Hardison shook his head in despair.

"Y'know, Parker – there really _is_ somethin' very, _very_ wrong with you!"

Parker's smile turned into an eerie grin.

"Yeah, I know! I'm _special!_ "

And then she was off back to Sophie and Nate, ready to do what she could to help.

Sighing, Hardison turned back to Eliot-watching, and saw the flashlight get nearer and nearer, Eliot's sturdy frame shadowed behind the light. Hardison prepared to let Eliot back into Lucille, but he was surprised when Eliot stopped and stood right in front of the huge truck creeping slowly forwards beside the big van. Turning the flashlight on the driver, he stood, straight and solid, rain pelting the world around him as he prevented the vehicle from moving.

Hardison could see the driver begin to gesticulate in anger at this idiot standing in front of a truck that could squash Eliot like a bug, but the hitter took no notice. Eliot had a sinister smile on his face that just shouted _C'mon, man, just try an' push me around, an' I'll turn you_ _ **an'**_ _your goddamn truck into landfill_. As the cars in front moved forward, Hardison suddenly understood what Eliot was up to.

He was creating a gap so that Hardison could move Lucille and her precious cargo into the inside lane and towards the distant … _whatever it was_ … that Eliot had found.

As the gap widened enough for Hardison to ease Lucille into it, Eliot turned and checked out the width of the shoulder just off the asphalt. It wasn't quite roomy enough for Lucille to travel along it safely, and the water runoff was making the slight slope treacherous, but it was the only way to reach their destination.

Hardison watched Eliot head off down the rough surface, banging on car windows yelling at the occupants, Lucille's headlights and Eliot's flashlight making the whole scenario surreal … the teeming rain with this crazy, angry, drenched human being flashing what appeared to be a police badge at the drivers, and cars began to nervously move a little to the side, giving Hardison as much room as they could under the circumstances.

Sophie let out a hearty yelp, and Hardison could hear Nate talking her through the contraction, Sophie's breathing slowing and evening out as she tried to deal with the pain.

Taking a deep breath and marshalling his wits, Hardison went for it.

Slowly moving Lucille onto the shoulder, he managed to straighten her up and inch forward, keeping Eliot's gesticulating figure in the beams of the headlights. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the truck driver in his side mirror, ranting and yelling what could only have been some unkind words in his direction, and he was thankful Eliot couldn't hear the moron. He was still pretty sensitive about bad language around Bump, who, apparently, had the ears of a bat and could hear cussin' from a mile away.

He could feel the slip and slide of Lucille's tires on the sodden surface, gravel shifting loosely as the water ran unimpeded from the road, and it took all of Hardison's concentration to keep Lucille straight while keeping an eye on Eliot, now waving him on and pointing out narrower sections and where the water was especially treacherous. At one point Eliot was ankle-deep in running water, his boots and jeans waterlogged, and Hardison knew Eliot must be freezing in the driving rain.

But just ahead he saw the white sign, a tattered remnant of an old gas station advertisement, and then Eliot was guiding him through the overgrown driveway into what remained of the service area.

The pumps were long gone and the gas station itself was nothing but four walls, but at least they were off the main highway.

Turning off the engine, Hardison unbuckled his safety belt and was out of the driver's seat in an instant, heading into the work and living space he had created for his team.

Nate and Sophie were working through another contraction, Nate not even acknowledging Hardison's presence. He was wholly focused on Sophie, her pain, her discomfort, and the fact that he loved her more than life itself.

Parker was busy hauling the sofa seat onto the floor and dragging sheets and towelling out of the storage container below, readying a comfortable place for Sophie if she felt like lying down, although there really wasn't any room in Lucille for walking around, so their options were limited. It would have to do.

Hardison moved to the rear doors and opened one, letting in a blast of cold air, rain and a very, _very_ wet Eliot Spencer. The hacker helped his friend into the van and slammed the door behind him.

"Man, Eliot, you're freezin'!"

Eliot stood, dripping and shaking and his teeth chattering, and Hardison had to pry the flashlight out of nerveless fingers.

Nate took in the state of the younger man in a second.

"Parker, go help Eliot – get him out of that wet jacket, will you, and try and warm him up. We can't afford to have him get sick, okay?"

"M-m'alright," Eliot stammered, "Jus' … Jus' cold is all … how's Soph?"

Sophie, tired, sore and, though she would never admit it, utterly terrified, smiled wearily at Eliot as he stood, worried, soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, as Hardison pulled the sodden jacket and beanie off him and wrapped him in a thick, warm blanket while Parker went to re-heat a couple of pads.

"My, aren't we a pair?" she said, humour rife in her voice despite everything happening to her. "I'm feeling happier now I have all of you here – oh … _oh god_ , here comes another one –"

And Nate held her as the contraction, far stronger than any that had come before, ripped through her.

" _Bloody HELL!_ " she yelled, her hand in Nate's and squeezing as hard as she could. "Hardison! Get over here!"

"Wha –" Hardison's mouth dropped open.

" _NOW!_ " Sophie ranted, and as Hardison dropped down beside her and opposite Nate, Sophie reached out for his hand and grasped it like a lifeline. The resulting vise-like grip around his fingers had Hardison thinking he would never be able to use a keyboard again.

As Sophie worked through the contraction and Nate and Hardison both took the punishment, Parker dragged the two heat pads out of the microwave and shoved them unceremoniously under Eliot's armpits, knowing she had to raise his core body temperature.

She led him to a chair and sat Eliot down, and slowly his teeth stopped chattering and a little colour returned to his face. Parker found a towel and dried off his hair, and then wiped his face and his hands, rubbing his fingers hard to restore circulation. Eliot, never one for all of this fussin', manned up and took it.

Sophie relaxed a little as the contraction eased off.

"I think … I think I want to push …" she murmured tiredly.

"What? Already?" Nate was nonplussed. Maggie had been in labour with Sam for seventeen hours.

" _Yes, already!_ " Sophie grated, and tensed as another contraction followed almost immediately. "And if … if you ever … _ever_ … come near me for sex again I will cut your man-bits off, because I am _never doing this again_ , Nate! _Hear me?_ "

"Ouch," Hardison said under his breath, and then winced as Sophie gripped his hand like grim death.

"She doesn't mean it," Nate whispered apologetically and then grunted with pain as Sophie mangled his hand.

Sophie, red in the face, perspiring and with her dark hair hanging in damp ringlets, glared at Nate with pure mayhem in her eyes.

"Wanna bet?" she hissed, and bared her teeth as the contraction intensified. " _I WANT TO PUSH!_ "

Parker, getting more and more distressed by Sophie's pain, shoved Eliot's shoulder.

" _Do something!"_ she demanded, her voice shaky.

Eliot, still chilled, clothed as he was in a wet shirt and jeans, finally realised he had to face the fact that he was probably the only person in Lucille who had any idea how to deal with this.

"You can do it, Eliot! You have a book and _everything!"_ Parker urged.

Hardison, gritting his teeth against the crushing grip around his hand, raised an eyebrow.

"A … a book?"

"Shut up, Parker!" Eliot rumbled. The thieving little pain-in-the-ass had been rummaging through his apartment again. Damn, he'd have to up his security. He was getting pretty tired of trying to keep her out of his home. Boundaries weren't Parker's strong point.

He looked at the expectant faces and the equally expectant woman now in the throes of childbirth.

"You've been reading up, Eliot?" Nate said, his own eyebrows raised, hope in his eyes.

 _Oh hell._

" _Yeah_ , okay?" He ranted defensively. "I've done my homework 'cause it didn't look as if any of you idiots were gonna do it, so I got a book, alright?" He paused for a moment. "An' … an' maybe I watched a documentary. Man, I never want to _ever_ do _that_ again …" he added, embarrassed all to hell and back.

Nate smiled, gave a bad-tempered and antsy Sophie a kiss, and made a decision.

"Okay, Eliot, you're up. You're going to deliver this baby, right here, right now, in Lucille, and if you make another comment about Lucille's carpets, Hardison, I will _skin you_ , do you understand?"

Hardison did try to look ashamed for a moment or two, then he grinned.

"Lucille … she gonna be an _Auntie!_ "

Eliot and Sophie gazed at one another for a heartbeat, and then Sophie, eyes suddenly serene and clear, nodded.

"It's alright …" she whispered.

And Eliot knew then that he could do this.

Dumping the two heat pads and nervously running fingers through his riot of damp hair, he worked through the process in his head.

"Okay … okay, I got this … Parker, get me a teeshirt from my stash, will, ya? I gotta get out of this wet shirt or I'll seize up. Oh, an' heat the water like I asked. Nate … Hardison, can you help Soph onto the bed here … Soph, it ain't perfect, but we ain't got much room here an' I gotta be able to see what I'm doin' …" and he winced as he said it.

Within a minute Sophie was settled onto the sofa seat on the floor and Nate sat behind her, propping her up with his body and a few cushions. Hardison had to move with them as Sophie had absolutely no intention of letting go of his hand.

Parker set some water to heat in the microwave and then dug out a warm teeshirt for Eliot, helping him peel off the soaking shirt and wrangle him into the tee, the hitter hissing with pain as his shoulder objected to the stretch over his head. But he immediately felt warmer, and he could cope now with working in wet jeans and boots swilling with water. He didn't have time to change.

Sophie let out a keening cry of pain and her knees began to draw reflexively up to her chest, and Eliot realised that the baby was well on its way. Dropping to his knees, he touched Sophie's arm, and her screwed-up eyes blinked open.

"Hey Soph … gonna take a look, okay? Is that alright?" His voice was that soft, gruff tone he reserved for children and animals, and Sophie was very, _very_ glad to hear it.

"Y … yeah …"

Eliot dug around for a blanket he could drape over Sophie to preserve a little of her modesty. And then, to everyone's surprise, he began talking to himself.

"C'mon, man, you've done this sort of thing before back home … calves … foals … how different can it be …" Steeling himself, he took a good look. His eyes widened. " _Ohhhhh boy_ … this _ain't_ the same … okay … think where we're at …" he looked at Sophie, who was in-between contractions and trying to save her strength, Nate wiping her face with a damp cloth. Hardison had that fish-slapped expression back on his face.

Parker dropped down beside Eliot with a bowl of hot water, and peered around his shoulder, having a good look.

"Where's Bump?" She asked, confused.

Eliot snapped out of his temporary paralysis and scowled, gently but firmly pushing her out of the way.

"Darn it, Parker, move! I gotta think!"

Parker sat back and offered Eliot the bowl and a bar of soap and he scrubbed his hands and arms until they stung, and then he took a deep, _deep_ breath and had another look.

"Well, Sophie-girl," he commented, trying not to let his voice shake, "I think we're waaaay past worryin' about dilation of the thingy," he muttered. "When you feel like you gotta push, just go for it."

"Thingy?" Parker asked. "What thingy?"

Eliot closed his eyes for a moment and Parker could tell by the controlled tremble of his lower lip that Eliot's temper was taking quite a beating. Muscles jumped along his jawline, and his lip curled.

"Parker … so help me –"

" _Ohgodherecomesanotherone!_ " Sophie bawled.

Eliot gulped then crouched, looking for all the world like a quarterback waiting to take the snap.

"Okay, Soph, I know you're tired, but just … just bear down when you need to, and I'll take care of Bump at this end."

Sophie's whole body clenched, and her whole being was intent on one thing, and that was _getting this baby out of her_. She let out a wrenching scream, and Parker squeaked with excitement as Eliot leaned forward to support the wrinkled, dark-haired head that appeared, and he couldn't stop a whoop of delight.

"HEAD! BUMP'S GOT A HEAD!" Parker yelled, " _Sophie, you've had a head!_ "

Sophie, slumping back in Nate's arms, smiled, and she could see Nate, his face rapt with anticipation, and she couldn't have loved him more than she did at that moment.

Hardison just couldn't stop smiling.

Eliot was on a roll.

"Soph! One more push, gal, an' I think we got it, okay? Take a deep breath, an' I – _whoa_ … wait a minute … _don't push_ , Soph, y'hear me? _Do not push_ – not until I tell you!"

"What … what's wrong –" Nate's voice broke. He could see Eliot working on something, his face taut with concentration. _Not again … dear god, not again …_

"Nate!" Sophie wailed, and then Eliot's face, gaunt with tension, cleared and he wiped sweat from his brow with his arm.

"We're clear! Sophie … _now_ … _one more push!"_

And feeling as though her whole body was being ripped apart, Sophie gathered every ounce of strength she had left, and _pushed_.

A minute later, the loud, complaining bawl of a _very_ angry baby filled the air, and Eliot's face broke into the biggest, loopiest grin anyone could ever remember having seen on his face as Parker handed him a towel, and he lifted the wriggling newborn in big, gentle hands and laid the child on Sophie's stomach.

" _BUMP'S HERE!_ " Parker shrieked.

"Man, she's got a set of lungs on her," Eliot rasped, his voice giving away his emotion despite himself.

Nate felt Sophie's body relax and heard her sob as she let go of Hardison's hand and reached out for the baby, and he felt the tears run down his own cheeks as the ache of the lost years of his life eased.

A daughter. _They had a daughter_.

To be continued …


	5. Chapter 5

Eliot focused on washing his hands, trying to calm the shaking still running rife through his system and making his heart pound, even as he listened to the delight and wonder of the team in the background. Sophie and Nate were completely enchanted by their new daughter, while Hardison had turned into nothing but a gooey pile of mush. Parker was silent, but Eliot knew the little thief was gazing in amazement at the baby now wrapped warmly in a couple of soft towels and clutched tightly to Sophie's chest.

Eliot closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His Plan hadn't quite worked out the way he had hoped, but the baby was healthy, so was Sophie, the cord was cut and the placenta delivered.

Seven months of worry and planning were finally over with.

But now, even with the elation at the arrival of this much-wanted child, Eliot was at a loss. He had made a promise to Sophie that he would protect them all until his dying day. But with a baby now within the close-knit circle of protection Eliot had created throughout the years, he was riddled with doubt.

He had realised during his recuperation that his life as the feared Eliot Spencer, the best retrieval specialist in the world, had irrevocably changed. He knew he wasn't _quite_ as fast as he had been in his twenties and early thirties. He knew the damage to his body, no matter that he was still in excellent condition, would slowly affect his work … his _life_. And he had a razor-sharp fragment of metal embedded deep in his back that could _end_ him.

How in hell was he supposed to care for this precious new life in their midst? How could a battle-scarred ol' war horse like him protect her as they both got older?

Drying his hands, he turned quietly and watched his team gathered around the new arrival. He saw a small hand emerge from the bundle and Sophie instinctively offered a finger for the child to clutch, and grins broke out all around as the tiny fingers grasped her mother's.

Nate glanced up at Eliot, face alight with love and joy, and smiled at the hitter.

 _Thank you_ , he mouthed.

Eliot, confused and _very_ tired, plastered a smile on his face, and nodded his acknowledgement.

He felt detached … empty. He didn't know what to do. He was _completely_ lost. Much as he would have loved to hold this beautiful child and tell her he was hers for the rest of his life, he knew common sense would dictate that he shouldn't do it. She deserved better. She deserved someone who was … what _was_ the phrase … oh yeah … _fit for purpose_.

Sighing, he reached into his still-wet jeans pocket and hauled out his cell phone, hoping the water hadn't screwed up the thing. But no, it was still alive and kicking, and, he was relieved to find, it was showing a couple of bars. The wi-fi was back in service. The wind outside had dropped and the storm had moved on, the rain had lessened to a nasty drizzle, and whatever had interfered with service has receded with the storm.

Dialling 911, he lifted the device to his ear and made the call.

* * *

It took the ambulance forty-five minutes to reach them.

A jack-knifed truck had been the hold-up, and although no-one had been hurt, it had taken a while for the ambulance to get through the backed-up traffic.

Eliot, who had busied himself while waiting with packing up Sophie's things and making sure everything was ready, swung into action when the medics arrived, and as they prepared Sophie and her daughter for the trip to hospital, he gave them a rundown of what had happened.

" … an' the baby came damn fast … cord was around her neck but we got it free pretty quickly an' she arrived healthy and as noisy as hell. She's a strong one," he added with a wry smile. He reached out for a moment and touched Sophie's arm as she was eased onto a gurney, Nate holding his sleeping daughter close to his heart.

"We'll be with you soon, Soph," he added quietly. "You an' Nate … you just look after yourselves an' Bump, an' we'll be along." Leaning forward, he kissed Sophie on the cheek and she cradled his face for a moment in her palm. She saw such sadness in his eyes it almost made her weep. But he smiled and let her go, watching Nate and his precious bundle follow Sophie into the ambulance.

Eliot caught one of the medics by the shoulder.

"Listen, Sophie's had a bit of high blood pressure, but she hasn't shown any sign of eclampsia, so she should be okay, but just so you know, alright? Take care of 'em, man. They're _damn_ precious to us," he added, his face weary and grim.

The medic nodded and waited until Sophie and Nate were settled, and then shut the doors of the ambulance. Within a minute the ambulance was gone, the now-thinning line of traffic shifting skittishly as the siren and flashing lights of the big vehicle urged them out of the way.

Hardison, standing just inside Lucille's rear doors with Parker beside him, watched silently as Eliot slowly walked to the edge of the crumbling parking area and stood in the chill drizzle, gazing at the ambulance until it disappeared into the distance and the wail of sirens faded into silence.

"Is he okay?" Parker asked, her voice a little tremulous. She had noticed how Eliot had hung back, allowing everyone to enjoy the moment of having this new person in their midst. "He looks … not right," she added, worried now.

Hardison, still on a high from meeting his new 'niece', frowned. Now that Parker mentioned it, Eliot did look a little down. Perhaps it was just the aftermath of all that stress an' stuff –

 _Uh oh_.

Eliot had turned and begun to retrace his steps back to Lucille, his sturdy frame already soaked again from the rain, and as Hardison watched, Eliot stumbled. He didn't go down and the hitter righted himself, but immediately his steps began to falter and he weaved unsteadily in the persistent drizzle.

" _Eliot?_ "

Hardison hit the ground running, Parker close beside him, and they caught Eliot before he fell.

Eliot seemed confused and he blinked tiredly, rain streaming down his face, and Hardison hauled him back onto his feet. But the hitter didn't seem to be able to stand, so between them Parker and Hardison half-dragged and half-carried Eliot back to Lucille and unceremoniously dumped him into the dry interior. Joining him, they shut the doors behind them and dropped down beside their friend.

Parker pulled over a discarded blanket and draped it around Eliot's shoulders, rubbing his arms to drive some warmth into him.

"El? Eliot, you okay, man?" Hardison queried, concerned for his best friend.

Eliot roused himself.

"Y … yeah … jus' … jus' kinda tired is all," the hitter mumbled, now beginning to shiver. "Goddamn … scariest thing I've ever done …" He smiled at Hardison, exhaustion screaming from every pore. "She's a cute lil' bug, huh," he added.

Parker wrapped the blanket tighter around her 'big brother' and hugged him tightly.

"Bump's beautiful," she whispered, "and she's safe because of you. You're just feeling a bit cold and sad and tired, Eliot." Then she thought for a moment. "Why are you so sad?"

Eliot winced.

"I … I'm okay. Just like you said. Wore out, wet an' cold. An' sore," he added, smiling ruefully. "Shoulder's a bit achy." He knew this would distract Parker, who was taking Eliot's rehabilitation very seriously.

It worked.

Parker frowned and unwrapping herself from Eliot's shivering body, she headed off to get him some pain meds – which Eliot knew he wouldn't take – and a couple of their precious heat pads.

"Hardison … I'm gonna … gonna get changed outta these wet clothes an' rest up a little. Wake me when you get to the hospital. You know where you're goin'?"

Hardison, nonplussed, nodded.

"Yeah bro, but we need to get you warmed up an' taken care of –"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Just get goin', will ya?" Eliot had a bit of his growl back.

Hardison wouldn't let it go.

"Eliot, you gotta –"

" _Dammit, Hardison!_ I don't have to do a goddamn thing, just leave me alone and _git!_ " Eliot, exasperated, threw off the blanket and struggled to get to his feet.

Hardison stared at Eliot for long moments, knowing if he touched the man he would react badly, so he let him be. He sighed. Who knew what lurked in the mind of Eliot Spencer.

"Okay, El," he said calmly, "You go warm up an' get some rest. I'll get Parker to wake you when we get there." Hardison knew Parker was the only person who could wake one of the most dangerous men on the planet in perfect safety.

Eliot didn't reply. He made his way unsteadily to one of the overhead bins where he kept his spare clothes and hauled out jeans, shirt, sweater and socks, and then he dug about for a pair of sneakers. Finding them, he sat down on a chair and began to strip off his clothes, ignoring both Parker and Hardison, even as the little thief handed him two newly-heated pads. He grunted his thanks, and they reluctantly left him to it.

Fifteen minutes later, as Hardison slowly drove Lucille away from the abandoned gas station and headed through heavy traffic down the highway towards Portland, Parker eased out of the passenger seat and peered into the living area.

Eliot had shifted the soiled towels and blankets into a corner and had found a cushion on which to rest his head, and he was sprawled on Lucille's floor, sound asleep.

Parker crept quietly beside him, and lifting the discarded blanket, draped it over the exhausted man.

Eliot didn't move a muscle. He was out for the count.

Parker neatly tucked the blanket around her friend, and then sat on the floor beside him. Her Eliot wasn't _right_. He was sad, and down, and _oh_ so tired. So resting her chin on her hand, she settled down to watch over him.

* * *

Nearly two hours and a lot of traffic delays later, Lucille powered her way into the parking lot of the hospital situated on the outskirts of Portland, a big old building with tall windows and oversized doors, all light and dazzling cleanliness and antiseptic.

Parker leaned forward from where she sat on the floor and gently touched Eliot's shoulder.

"Eliot," she whispered quietly, "we're here. We're at the hospital. C'mon … we're going to see Bump."

Oddly, it took Eliot a moment or two to rouse, his blue eyes hazy and distant.

"Hey, wakey-wakey, sleepyhead," Park sing-songed, "time to rise 'n shine, hit the road, Jack and seize the day!"

Eliot, groggy and stiff with sleeping on Lucille's unforgiving floor, allowed a tiny smile to creep onto his lips.

"Yeah, yeah … I'm up … gimmee a sec …" he groused, and Parker grinned. Now _that_ was more like her Eliot. She handed him a hairbrush.

"Brush your hair," she ordered. "You look like you've been dragged through a bush backwards," she added, smirking. Yeah … Eliot could occasionally have a severe case of bed-head.

While Eliot grumpily made himself presentable and painfully tied his newly-brushed mane into a neat pony-tail, his shoulder complaining every inch of the way, Hardison sent Nate a text, telling him that they had arrived safe and sound.

The rain had eased as the three friends made their way across the parking lot and into the hospital, fully prepared for a battle to get to see Sophie, as technically they weren't family. But Nate was there to meet them. He looked tired but elated, and the smile just wouldn't go away.

The hug he gave each one of them was rib-creaking.

"How's Soph an' Bump doin'," Eliot rasped, feeling better now, knowing everything seemed to be going as planned.

Nate's perpetual smile widened into a grin.

"Beautiful, both of 'em. C'mon, you three – come and meet your god-daughter."

Eliot's heart skipped a beat.

 _God-daughter?_ What the _hell_ …?

But when he glanced at Hardison and Parker, they didn't seem surprised. Just what the hell was going on? _Maybe_ … he thought, maybe Nate had made a mistake … maybe it was just these other two idiots who were committed to being a goddamn _godparent_. _Yeah, that must be it_ , Eliot decided, because why would Nate and Sophie want a violent, dangerous, banged-up, bad-tempered sonofabitch like him as a godfather for their beautiful daughter. He didn't know whether to be relieved or hurt. He was surprised to find he was disappointed. But he shook the feeling off. It was for the best. _Absolutely_.

They followed Nate along corridors to a neat, airy room, and there they were, Sophie and Bump, the latter lying happily in her momma's arms.

Eliot squashed the treacherous and highly annoying fuzzy feelings now surging through him and eased himself over to the far side of the room, arms crossed, although he gave Sophie a warm smile when she looked in his direction.

Nate stood beside his wife and daughter, and cleared his throat.

"Guys … I'd like you to meet Elizabeth Grace Ford, eight pounds two ounces, with all of the requisite fingers, toes, _etcetera_. And before you ask, no, you can't teach her lock-picking, Parker –"

"Well, not until she's about three," Sophie added, her eyes warm with humour.

And then everything went all touchy-feely and cooing and friggin' _oohs_ an' _aahhs_ an' the most sickening display of infantile drooling – and this from the adults in the room – and Eliot felt even _more_ out of sync.

So, he just held back, smiled when required, and tried his best to look as though he was doing his job of protecting his team from whatever might be lurking in the undergrowth, cupboards or whatever.

By the time everyone else had had their turn at holding Miss Elizabeth Grace Ford, who took the whole gooey rigmarole like a professional and accepted it as her right, Eliot was feeling very weary and a little out of sorts. He just wanted to go away and try and get his balance back.

And then – thank _god_ – Nate was shooing everyone out of the room, and Eliot unfolded his arms and made the rookie mistake of letting his guard down as he headed out of the door after Hardison and Parker, who were now arguing about who little Lizzie liked best.

"Eliot? Can we talk?"

Sophie's voice drilled right through his armour and into his heart. _Shit_.

He wearily switched his smile on again, and turned to face her as she lay, comfy and relaxed and _motherly_ , her daughter in her arms. Eliot thought she looked goddamn _beautiful_. Nate quietly closed the door behind him, but not before Eliot heard Parker's stage whisper to Hardison.

"D'you think they're gonna _tell_ him now?"

What in Hades did _that_ mean?

His anxiety levels ratchetted back up a couple of notches.

Nate rested his hand on Eliot's good shoulder and indicated an armchair beside the bed, right next to Sophie.

"Sit."

Eliot frowned.

"Why?" His voice was soft, but it had an edge to it.

"Eliot … for god's sake, _sit down_ , will you? _Please?_ "

Sophie's eyes had a concerned light in them as she spoke, and Nate steered the hitter to the chair, pushing him gently into the seat.

Eliot sat down.

"We need to discuss something with you," Nate said, his face now serious.

Jeez. This sounded _bad_.

But the chair was soft and comfortable, and Eliot was exhausted, and he figured he could cope with whatever nasty piece of crap Sophie and Nate were going to drop on him, because at least he didn't have to do it standing up.

"We have a request," Sophie said quietly.

Eliot sighed. _What now?_

"Look," he said, trying to head whatever it was off at the pass, "I understand about not wantin' me as a godparent. _I understand_ … I really _do_ , so don't get stressed about it –"

Nate and Sophie looked at one another. Sophie's face became ever-so-slightly exasperated.

"Oh, Eliot, will you just _shut up_ , stop being such a pillock and let us explain? Of _course_ you're her godfather. That was always a _given_. We want to ask you something else."

Nate sat down on the bed next to Sophie and studied Eliot, who began to feel like he was a specimen on a microscope slide.

"Eliot … we have a favour to ask."

Eliot, still struggling with the concept of being a godparent, just nodded dumbly. Now he was _really_ confused.

"What … why … I –" He didn't seem to be able to say something without making himself look like a moron.

Nathan ignored the hitter and continued, unable to stop a little smile at a blustering Eliot Spencer.

"Okay Eliot, we need your help with this. We need to know Lizzie will be safe and cared for if anything happens to us."

Eliot, still muttering under his breath trying to get a handle on what was happening, frowned, blinking, now utterly and completely out of his depth.

"Uh … _what?_ I … I don't get it –" His face was a picture of non-understanding.

"For goodness sake, Eliot, will you just _shut up and listen?_ " Sophie looked at her husband. "Nate … hand Lizzie to this fool, will you?"

And before Eliot could do a thing, Nate had gently and carefully installed Elizabeth Grace Ford in Eliot's unresisting arms. There she lay, yawning and blinking myopically, safe and sound in Eliot's grasp, listening happily to the frantic thump of his heart.

" _Nate!_ Nate, what the _hell_ –" Eliot hissed, panicked, but Nate didn't do a thing. He just sat back on the bed, held Sophie's hand and let Eliot mentally flail in uncharacteristic terror. "Take her, man! I ain't … I could … _she ain't safe with me!_ " he finally spat out, and all the time he held the child close to his chest and felt her warmth and fragility and wanted nothing more than to protect her with every atom of his being.

" _Stop_ , Eliot. She's fine. _You're_ fine. She is in the safest place in the world, my friend," Nate said softly. "She couldn't be any safer than with you. Which is why we want _you_ to be her legal guardian if anything happens to Sophie and me."

Eliot was dumbfounded.

" _Huh?_ "

"Dear god, Eliot, how difficult can this be?" Sophie sighed. "Look …" she continued, wondering how she could drum some sense into this ridiculous man, "Eliot … you were the first person to hold her … you could no more hurt her than I could. You have so much to teach her –"

Eliot knew then that Sophie and Nate were deranged.

" _Teach her?_ Are you _nuts?_ " he argued, keeping his voice low so that he didn't disturb Lizzie, " You really want me to teach her … _what_ … twenty ways to kill someone with a spoon? Or … or get information outta someone with a toothpick an' a couple of coffee filters? _Seriously?_ "

Sophie could feel her blood pressure slowly begin to climb, and Nate was being absolutely no use at all.

"You have a lot to teach her, Eliot," she said patiently. "She already loves music because of you. Isn't that true?"

Eliot had to think about that one.

"Y … yeah … I guess so …"

"And you can teach her to cook. And to be honest, and brave and true to her friends and family. You will _never_ lie to her, Eliot. You will teach her to face her fears, and you will always be there for her when she needs you, even if she doesn't realise it. She couldn't have a better guardian … or a better friend."

Eliot looked at Nate. _Surely_ Sophie had lost all sense of reason.

"What she said," Nate smiled benignly.

Eliot realised he had been utterly and thoroughly suckered.

Looking down at the baby in his arms, he saw slate-dark eyes staring at not-very much, and he thought they would probably turn to velvet brown like her mother's. Nate's dark curls were evident in the soft tufts of black hair on her head. He eased back the blanket from her chin, and was surprised when a tiny hand rested on the knuckles of his index finger.

"Yes," he announced, and then wondered why he had said it.

"You'll do it?" Nate's voice was full of hope.

Eliot glanced up at his friends.

"I think you're cracked in the brainpan, but somebody's gotta watch out for her. Hardison an' Parker an' me. We'll take care of her, I promise."

And looking back at Lizzie, he ran a finger over the tiny hand and marvelled at its softness. He had no idea why he had agreed to this nonsense, but somebody had to, and Parker and Hardison couldn't keep the evils from her door no matter how good they were at what they did. It was a job for a man like him. And he would put himself between Lizzie and any hurt heading her way, no matter what it cost him.

So he held her and loved her, and he realised that at some point he would have to tell his team … his friends … about the sudden agonising pain in his back, and the numbness in his leg that had led to his collapse in the rain, but that could wait as it had gone away as quickly as it had happened. Nah … it wasn't important right now.

He grinned.

"Hey, 'Lizbeth Grace …" he said. "I'm Eliot. It's nice to meet ya."

 _Finis_

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has read and/or commented on this piece of fluff. It is very much appreciated!

Look out for the next story in the series ... 'Ninja Skills.'


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